Hamilton One Shots
by DemigodGirl517
Summary: After becoming newly obsessed with the masterpiece that is HAMILTON, I decided to write some one shots! So here they are. Angst, fluff, recommendations welcomed! Lams, Mullette, Jamilton, Marliza, Hamliza, literally everything.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I know it's been forever since I posted anything, but I felt like it. I wanted to write scenarios without needing to design characters, so I took the characters from the man himself, Lin Manuel Miranda, and wrote some one shots. R&R!

Historical Appearance

Modern AU

Angst, fluff

Brief lams, mullette

John sprawled across the couch with Alex's head in his lap, running his fingers through the curly red hair donning his boyfriend's head. The news broadcasted on their television, the voices drowned out by Lafayette and Hercules who were in the kitchen making popcorn for movie night. It was Hercules' turn to pick, so Alex was getting his nightly dose of the news before the inevitable comedy movie began. So far, Alex had cursed out the president and ravaged his financial plans, and John had cooed at a dog saving a duckling. So, a pretty normal night as far as they were concerned.

"Are you two almost done with that popcorn?" John called to the other two men in the house. The newscaster's voice was beginning to bore him. Alex groaned at John's shout, so being the kind boyfriend he was, he yelled again. "You better not be fucking on our counter!" They heard Lafayette's melodic laugh besides Hercules' booming one. Alex cracked a smile, remembering the time they had, in fact, been doing the deed. John had forced them to clean the entire kitchen until he could see his reflection in the floor, horrified that his marble counters had been blemished. Alex didn't remind him of the countless times they too had blemished those counters.

"At least we know they aren't doing anything," Alex mumbled. John smiled and kissed his boyfriend on the temple.

The timer on the microwave went off, pausing Lafayette and Hercules' idle chatter. Laf poured the buttery popcorn into a bowl, Hercules adding M&Ms to the mixture for John and him. Nothing was better than chocolate and popcorn. Lafayette poured an expensive red wine for Alex and he before grabbing two beers for John and Hercules, then following his boyfriend into the living room, hands full. The three friends settled on the couch while Hercules picked out a DVD from their extensive collection. He was about to change the input on the TV when the newscaster began a new story and Alex threw up his hand to pause Hercules' movement. The other three boys exchanged exasperated glances.

"In other news," a blonde-haired woman began. Hercules started a conversation with John about the new increase in their course load, successfully tuning out the droning on screen. Lafayette stood and grabbed the plates from dinner off the table while he waited, figuring it was better to do the dishes now, than tomorrow morning when they _really _had no motivation to clean.

"France is crying and the whole world, too, is emotional," the newscaster said. Lafayette paused his movements, turning to the screen. Joining the blonde reporter on screen was the Archbishop of France, the words the reporter had just spouted quoted beneath his picture. "Only a few hours ago, fire overtook the beloved French monument – the Notre Dame." The plates in Lafayette's hands clattered to the floor, breaking with a large crash.

Alex never tore his eyes from the TV screen, only flinching at the noise, but Herc and John paused their conversation, glancing at Lafayette before following his gaze to the screen. Hercules sucked in a breath.

"Oh, mon dieu," Lafayette whispered, tears filling his eyes as he saw one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture – his home – burning to the ground. "No, non, _non_."

Hardly looking down to make sure he avoided pieces of glass plate, Lafayette ran to the screen, falling to his knees as he watched the Notre Dame falling to a beautiful disaster of dancing flames. This was not supposed to happen. France was supposed to be safe from things like this. Fire wasn't supposed to just appear out of thin air and swallow years of history and love in minutes. France. His home. His beloved.

The screen turned to a video of hundreds of French citizens, hands covering their mouths as they watched on in hazy tears, their posture painfully similar to the curly haired Frenchman on the apartment floor back in the United States. The newscaster continued on by saying it appeared the fire fighters had gotten the blaze under control, but the damage was still existent.

Hercules knelt by his boyfriend, placing a strong arm around Lafayette's lithe shoulders that trembled. He hated seeing his lover like this, and the fact that he could do absolutely nothing about it pained him. Lafayette hadn't been to his birthplace in a few years. His last visit had been with Hercules, John, and Alex; his excitement about showing off France almost overwhelming. When Lafayette had last seen the Notre Dame, his eyes had been so bright, his chest puffed out in a bit of pride that he hardly tried to mask, rambling about how great the French ancestors were. Now, no spark lingered. Only minutes after seeing the tragedy, Lafayette seemed empty.

"I-I'm sorry, I must call…" Lafayette trailed off in a mumble of French words. He stood quickly, catching his balance on the wobbly wood table, nearly sending the flickering candle crashing to the rugged carpet. John quickly blew it out, watching helplessly as his friend fled the scene.

Hercules looked torn between running after Lafayette and holding him tight in his arms, or watching from the sidelines, hearing half of a conversation and trembling tears through their bedroom door. John set a steadying hand on Hercules' arm, telling him to let Lafayette be for a few minutes. Let him sort things out first. John knew that when he was in distress, he needed a few moments alone to cool off and have a good think; whereas Alex's stress often quickly elevated to full blown panic attacks, and John was there almost immediately. Lafayette seemed to need a few minutes with his family and friends back in France. He needed someone to empathize with first before receiving physical comfort.

In the bedroom, Lafayette curled up against the door, knees pulled to his chest as he dialed the phone number of his best friend in France, Adrienne. She was always there for him when his parents left him for weeks or months at a time, keeping him company and inviting him for dinner. He had no doubt that she was watching the horrors through her apartment window.

Three rings sounded through the phone before he heard the soft, shaking voice of Adrienne. "Laf?" She answered.

"Addy," he whispered, the weak dam that was holding his flood of emotions beginning to crack.

"Oh, mon dieu, Gilbert. Where are you?" She asked. Lafayette was sure that she knew the answer, but he responded anyway.

"In my apartment in the US. What is happening?"

"We don't know. All we know is one second the air is bright and fresh, the next, smoke clouds covered the sky and the Notre Dame was on fire," Adrienne said, stifling a sob, lip between her bottom teeth. "It's terrible, mon ami. I don't know what's going on, and mama and papa are out in the crowds."

"It will be okay, please just stay on the phone with me," Lafayette cried softly.

The friends didn't speak, only listened to each other's hitched breathing and wishing they could be in each other's arms, wiping sorrowful torrents off red-blooming cheeks.

Lafayette opened his computer and pulled up the broadcast of the burning cathedral. He saw his people crying and suffering. He couldn't help the animosity that bloomed in his chest. Who had done such a thing? In reality, it was probably an accident, but he couldn't help but blame someone. After the terrorist attack on Paris, was it so hard to believe someone would try to destroy the city again?

Thirty minutes passed and Lafayette simply gazed at the fire having hung up with Adrienne when her parents returned to their apartment. Then, a knock came on the door. "Laf?" Came the gentle voice. Hercules stood with his ear pressed to the door, listening to the sniffles from the other side. He heard the creek of the floorboards as his boyfriend moved to open the door.

Hercules' heart broke all over again. Lafayette's coiled hair was sticking out at strange angles and his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. Rushing forward, Hercules engulfed the Frenchman in a hug squeezing the man tightly. Lafayette buried his face in the Irishman's shoulder, tears making Hercules' t-shirt wet. Lafayette's whole frame shuddered with heavy sobs. Hercules silently offered Lafayette his t-shirt as a tissue, not caring if he'd have to do another load of laundry.

"My love, are you alright?" Hercules asked unnecessarily. Obviously, he wasn't. Despite that, Lafayette nodded. Hercules frowned, looking upon Lafayette who was unable to meet his gaze. "No, you're not. Look at me, beautiful." Glassy eyes met soft ones only momentarily. "I'm so sorry, Laf."

Lafayette shook his head. "You have no need to be, mon amour. This is not your doing." Hercules wanted to find who or whatever was responsible for causing this fire and wring their neck. If it was a person, ha, no problem. If it was an electrical problem, Hercules would find the engineer, bring them back from the dead, (because no doubt he was dead by now), and kill them all over again. And if the disaster was caused by a storm, Hercules would find a way to throttle Zeus – to make him pay for hurting the one he loved.

"Do you want to watch a movie still?" Hercules asked having no idea if Lafayette was feeling any better, though he strongly doubted it. He felt Lafayette shake his head back and forth.

"Just hold me," Lafayette whispered. Hercules nodded, pressing a gently kiss to Lafayette's head before moving them both to the bed. John and Alex would get the idea. Before Hercules had come to his lover's rescue, Alex had been on the verge of tears himself, his mother having had a close relationship with France.

It would be okay, Hercules decided. Maybe not now, but soon enough, Lafayette would be okay. Perhaps he would surprise Lafayette with a trip to his homeland.

Only a few days later, news came out that the Notre Dame had experienced minimal damage. Lafayette had nearly cried again from relief when he learned the cathedral hadn't completely burned to the ground. And Hercules was right, it was okay.

WC: 1713


	2. Chapter 2

Musical Appearance

Modern AU

Just… you know

No ships

"Alexander, this is the fifth home that's contacted us about you being a problem. Causing fights, disrespecting the adults in your situation. What did we tell you? I can't believe you would do such a thing! That was your last chance you insolent brat! Who's going to want you now?" Alex flinched away from the social worker's harsh words. He'd heard them before of course, maybe not from a social worker, but definitely from foster parents. Of course, Alex knew he was causing trouble for the foster system, but it wasn't his fault. Well, at least for four of the homes he had been in.

"I think that's enough, Mr. Lee. Alex's social worker is here," came a booming voice. Alex jumped, hands wringing together as he looked towards the door to the head of the New York Foster Care branch, Mr. George King. He was a leering man, tall, but large around the middle. His blue eyes were piercing and sent shivers down nearly everyone's spine.

Shoving past Mr. King was Alex's _real _case worker, Mr. Lin. He had of course, demanded that Alex call him Lin, but years of being told to act respectfully unless he wanted a beating prevented the boy from agreeing to that request. Lin had tried to desperately place Alex in good homes, people who he personally trusted, but only one of them had actually worked out in the end, despite Alex's need to be removed. But in the end, Alex still trusted Lin. It wasn't his fault people were cruel. If anything, it was Alex's fault for screwing up decent placements. He was selfish. At least, that's what people said.

"Alex, _mijo_, I am so sorry," he said, kneeling beside the uncomfortable metal chair Alex was in. Lin placed a gentle hand on the table. It took everything in him not to flinch from the comforting touch.

"'s not your fault," Alex responded softly, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"On the contrary," Mr. King began, but Lin cut him off with a vicious scowl.

"It is none of your business to be here right now, Mr. King. I suggest you get out and leave me with my kid," Lin said calmly, though his eyes spoke different volumes. The taller man _hmph_ed and left the room, Mr. Lee trailing after.

The remaining duo was silent for a moment before Alex whined softly. "Why can't you just take me?" He knew he sounded pathetic, but in the current present, Alex was terrified. He trusted Lin, sure, but he also was so scared of where he might end up. Lin had taken him in for a night when Alex's next placement wasn't prepared for him, and it had been one of the most amazing nights of his life. Vanessa had been nothing but perfect and Sebastian was the little brother Alex hadn't known he had wanted. But all good things end.

Lin could hardly meet Alex's eyes, so guilt ridden that he was nearly physically ill. "You know I can't. You know I want to, god, I really want to. But –"he cut himself off with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Alex.

"However, I think I found you a good home. Now, don't go making conclusions," Lin smiled when Alex abruptly snapped his mouth shut. "I know we've not had the best luck, but I really believe in this one."

"You really believed in the last one too," Alex muttered. "I'm sorry." He immediately responded, ducking his head. "Please, I'm really sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. No worries." Lin sent him a reassuring look before continuing. "It's a really kind couple, the Washingtons. They run a group home, currently housing three other boys and three girls. The family has passed every check-up with flying colors and Alex I really think this will work." They were silent for a few more minutes, Alex mulling over the possibilities.

He had almost been placed in a group home before after running away from foster home three. Lin had pulled up to the house and upon seeing the crying children and exhausted mother, had promptly turned around. Two weeks later, every one of the children in the home had been removed, including the ones that had been the parents' children by blood.

"But, the other one that you brought me to passed also," Alex mumbled. "I'm sorry, I'm doubting you I didn't mean to."

"Alex," Lin cut off his panic. "It is _okay. _But right now we don't have a lot of options. The Washingtons live in Virginia, but I have a colleague, Phillipa, who lives down there. I'll give you her phone number, and you need to call immediately if something is off, okay. None of this hero business, _mijo._"

Alex frowned at the ground. "Fine," he whispered. Lin gently wrapped his arms around Alex, who was trembling like a leaf. He burrowed his face in Lin's shoulder, trying desperately to stave off tears.

"It's going to be okay. I promise." But promises could be broken.

The train ride was silent, Lin sitting across from Alex, writing in a notebook while the foster child read a battered copy of _Les Misérables, _the title completely in French. He had read the novel almost two dozen times. It was the most treasured of his few possessions. His real family had been poor, but his beautiful mother had saved up for two years to give Alex a gift on his tenth birthday. His father had walked out the day after, having seen the leather-bound novel.

The duo hopped briefly on a taxi that dropped them off at the foster center in Virginia to exchange paperwork. The man in charge here was much nicer than Mr. King. Lin than introduced Alex to Phillipa. She was adorable, with long brown hair and the kindest eyes Alex had ever seen. Except maybe Lin. She greeted them enthusiastically, but calmly enough that Alex hardly flinched when she went to shake his hand. Phillipa sent him a sad smile, before brightening once again and beginning to ramble on about the Washingtons.

"I love them! They are such great people. They took in a set of sisters for me. They're still there after six years and are about to get the okay to adopt!" After a few moments she calmed some. "Alexander, if there is absolutely anything you need while in Virginia, call me okay. Literally anything. You could need a new toothbrush and I would bring you one. Just know that we're all looking out for you." Alex smiled up at her shyly before Lin led him back to a car and they drove to the Washington household.

Big didn't even begin to describe the house. Shrubs lined the space where a black iron gate didn't. The front circle of a driveway was perfectly paved, and the house must have been recently cleaned. The sun sparkled through every window. Alex gaped and shrunk back into the seat.

"Lin, I don't think this will work out," he whispered.

"You don't know if you never try," Lin responded with a bright smile. Alex looked away guiltily. It was clear Lin really believed in these people. More so than any other placement. He had to try, if not for himself, then for Lin. Then, he could finally get out of the Miranda's hair. They'd be happier without him.

Lin opened the door for Alex, who crawled out, hugging a backpack to his chest. Lin led him to the massive front door and knocked quickly. After only a few seconds, the door swung open to reveal a beautiful couple. The woman was short with greying hair and happy wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. The man was gargantuan. Large hands and eyes. Alex slunk behind Lin, trying to hide his face.

"You must be Alexander," the woman said, her voice quiet but sure. "I'm Martha Washington. This is my husband George." Alex was slightly shocked. The woman had addressed him, not Lin. She had hardly looked at Lin!

"Hello, son," Mr. Washington greeted. Alex flinched. George's voice was quiet, but _that _word. _Son. _

"It must be chilly. Come in, please," Mrs. Washington gestured to the large living room with plush rugs and brown leather couches, a large fireplace, and a flat screen television. _Holy. Shit. _

Standing in the living room stood six other children. Each smiled at him warmly, and for a moment, Alex knew that they all understood. They all knew exactly the position he was in.

"These are our children. This is Gilbert, or Lafayette as he prefers," Martha gestured to a tall, lanky teen with dark coiled hair, and gleaming brown eyes.

"_Bonjour, _Alexander," he waved. French. Alex could work with French.

"Aaron," Marth gestured to a shorter teen with chocolate skin and his head completely shaved. He said nothing, only grimaced and looked away. A neutral party then.

"And James," she concluded. Another chocolate skinned boy, dark eyes and short curly black hair. He was stocky, but still taller than Alex. He reached out a hand. Strong, competition, a thrill. Also something he could digest.

"And these are our girls, Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy, they're all sisters." So these were Phillipa's girls. One was tall with cocoa skin, skinny, but fierce eyes behind brown hair. Challenge, fun. Another, Eliza, Alex assumed, was shorter, skinny, and looked shockingly like Phillipa herself. Kind. Finally, the shortest of the sisters, Peggy, with full lips, long wavy hair and a genuine smile. Friend.

"Kids, this is Alexander, and his social worker Lin," Martha introduced. Each smiled brightly, and Alex knew, if only in that moment, that this would be okay. He would be okay here.

WC: 1614


	3. Chapter 3

Musical Appearance

1920s AU

Fluff, and other stuff I think

Lams

Alexander was really fucking done with Thomas Jefferson. Recently, the Virginian had been trying to take credit for his arrests. And despite Washington being the Sargent at their precinct, King was the Captain, and he appreciated Jefferson's "desire to be the best." As a result, Alex's arrest numbers tanked. He was the best in the precinct, beyond a doubt. And yet, here he stood, getting reprimanded for being a failure by the Captain.

"If your numbers don't go up in the next month, Hamilton, we're going to have a serious chat. We'll be making cuts in the coming weeks, and if your numbers aren't peaked by then, I would suggest looking for a new job," he smiled evilly. Alex nodded once before leaving the room, making sure to close the door more aggressively than needed.

Jefferson was waiting outside King's office with a sneer. "Daddy can't always save you, huh, Hamilton."

"Fuck off," he muttered, packing up his stuff for the night. Normally, he'd stay late, nearly to the early morning, trying to prove that he belonged here – he was short, not really strong – but he was smart and brave and more hard working than any of the other shits in the precinct. He snatched a random piece of paper off the desk and shoved it into his briefcase, grabbing his gun and belt, and stalking outside.

And of course, it was pouring.

Alex sprinted through the rain, feet pounding into puddles, the spray coating the back of his pants. "Damnit," he muttered. Thanks to his cruel past, Alex's heart was starting to pound painfully in his chest. The rain did nothing but terrify him. He looked around wildly, every street empty, every store and restaurant closed.

As he ran however, an ally light caught his eye. He really doubted it was anything of significance, but he would rather check to see if it was something. Especially since he was still far from home. Alex slipped down the ally and knocked on the door with no window. God this was so stupid. For all he knew, the mafia could hide behind this door. But if it was the mafia...

A small main window slid open revealing a pair of beady black eyes. "Password." Are you fucking serious? So it wasn't the mafia, but it _was _a saloon. A very illegal saloon.

"C'mon, man," Alex hissed, trying to make himself seem less intimidating. If these people figured out he was a police officer, he was screwed. Thunder boomed and Alex bit back a whimper. However, the man behind the door noticed the pathetic sound that left Alex's throat, and he opened the door.

Inside it was warm and Alex could practically feel the steam lift off his jacket. Once the door of the saloon had closed behind him, the sound of pounding rain and booming thunder was gone. The saloon was shockingly ornate for an alleyway room. The wood floors had recently been polished and the mirrors were in pristine condition. On the wall hung beautiful paintings, each one with the same signature style, but still all different and entrancing. The bar was a deep rosewood color and the back wall was stocked with liquor. Illegal liquor. Finally, in the back was a wooden stage with candles and low lights decorating it. On the stage were three performers: a cellist, and violinist, and a trumpetist.

Alex meandered in, making his way through the surprisingly crowded, yet quiet bar. Alex found a seat at the end of the bar and sighed, resting his sopping head in his chin, letting his head get carried away by the beautiful music. It sounded like Mozart's Symphony No. 40.

Someone placed a drink down in front of him. When Alex looked up, he saw the bartender, a man about his age with curly brown hair and the most stunning eyes. Looking at him closer, Alex noticed a flattering array of freckles over his nose and cheeks. He smiled at Alex softly.

"You looked like you needed something strong." Holy shit his voice was like coffee. Smooth and warm, but rough around the edges.

"You would be correct," Alex mumbled, trying to tear his eyes away from the bartender. He threw back the shot, shuddering at the burning liquid. He cleared his throat once before saying, "I'm Alexander, or you can call me Alex." Alex offered a hand over the counter.

"Hello, Lexi. I'm John. You can call my Laurens," he pushed Alex's hand away. Alex's cheeks flushed at the nickname. "So, uh, what's a cop like you doin' in a place like this?" John ran a hand over Alex's cheek before standing and refilling Alex's glass. Alex had forgotten he was still in his police garb.

"Well, uh, you know. Just looking to get out of the rain. I don't like storms," Alex admitted. His face was still bright red from Laurens' advances.

"Ah," John leaned back, showing off his ripped pectoral muscles. "I love the rain. It's inspiring." Alex could picture the bartender standing in the middle of the street, his blue and white striped shirt stuck to his tanned skin due to the rain. His suspenders straining against muscles. Laurens would stand with his head tipped backward, water dripping down his chiseled face, eyes closed. It was a beautiful sight.

"Alexander?" John called, snapping the police out of his fantasy. Alex blushed as he looked at Laurens, still unable to get the picture out of his mind.

"Oh, yeah?"

John laughed. "I was just about to introduce you to my friends. I figured you might as well know who you'll be arresting in the next few days." Standing beside the bar were the three instrumentalists that had been performing.

"I am Lafayette," said the cellist. His accent was distinctly French. Unfortunately, Alex's greeting smile was met with an uncomfortable grimace.

"Hercules. Mulligan," the trumpetist said, shaking Alex's hand with a grip that was too tight.

"Aaron," said the violinist. He said nothing more, and didn't go to shake Alex's hand, or even look at him.

"I'm Alexander Hamilton," he smiled, desperately trying to come off as harmless. But when Alex saw Lafayette's nervous glance at his gun, he frowned. "I-I won't do anything, I promise." He watched as Hercules pulled Lafayette closer to his side, the French man curling slightly into his side.

"Why don't I get you some drinks before you keep playing. Aaron, water? Laf and Herc, Sam Adams?" The musicians nodded, Lafayette and Hercules walking to the end of the bar, the farthest seats from Alexander. Aaron, however, took the seat right beside Alex.

"You're taking a big risk being in here. Probably get in a lot of trouble, yeah?" Aaron said, thanking John for the water before returning to Alex. "Let me give you some advice. Take less risks. Talk less, smile more. You're a police officer in a saloon."

Alex flushed. "Playing it safe isn't really my style. But I am only in here because I needed to get out of the rain."

"I wouldn't suggest coming back," Aaron said, before downing his water and joining his colleagues. Alex sighed, watching them go back and beginning to play a swing piece. People started dancing on the floor, partners twirling each other around in circles. A large number of those people were homosexual, Alex realized. And others were dressed as the opposite gender. Illegal. God this place was a gold mine. And yet, when John came back to sit on the bar and leaned back to leer at Alex, the police officer knew there would be no arrests made in the saloon. At least, not by him.

"They'll get to like you," John promised. He ran a finger over Alex's glass, still full of whiskey.

"Do you like me?" Alex asked, leaning forward on a whim. John smirked. He put a finger on Alex's lower lip, pulling it out slightly. Fuck. What was this stranger doing to him?

"That depends? You gonna go to your cop friends and spill. You know the saying, snitches get stitches." Even when he was genuinely serious, Alex was enamored.

"Nah. I won't say a thing." John laughed.

"Then I guess I like you well enough. Why don't I give the keys to Lafayette over there, and you and I walk out into the rain and really make it pour?" Alex wasn't positive of what exactly John meant but he really wanted to go. Letting out a low whistle, John signaled to Lafayette that he was going to leave. He slid the keys behind a painting of the Eifel Tower. "Let's go, Honeybee."

They slipped out the door and into the rain, John basking in the pouring rain, and Alex shuddering beside him. "How far are we going?"

"Oh, right. You don't like the rain," John seemed genuinely worried.

"Yeah. But, it-it's alright. Let's just hurry," Alex whispered. John nodded, but his eyes still shone brilliantly.

Finally, they slipped into John's apartment. Alex shivering, John reveling.

Alex took in the apartment before he recognized the painting style on the wall. "Wait, you painted the stuff in the bar?" John blushed.

"Well, I'd prefer it not be called "stuff" but yeah, I did. But that's not why I brought you here. Despite your unfortunate job position, I would really love to paint you," John whispered. He brought his fingers over Alex's face, before capturing the police officer's lips with his own. They were salty and smooth and damn near perfect.

Needless to say, their escapades did not end with Alex up against the wall, but with John on top of the officer, various colors of paint across both their features.

When John finally collapsed beside him, running blue fingers through Alex's paint flecked hair, Alex was almost positive he would be losing his job.

WC: 1656


	4. Chapter 4

Musical and Historical Appearance

Circus AU

Fluff?

Marliza

Eliza stared at the massive tent before her, hearing the ruckus from inside and feeling excitement bubble in her stomach. Her younger sister, Peggy, stood beside her, nearly bouncing off the walls, hands clasped before her chest. Angelica watched both of them, her own eyes shining in the lantern light, more out of adoration for her sisters, than for the magical promises that waited inside the circus tent.

Peggy grabbed Eliza's hand, dragging her toward the entrance, freeing a laugh from Eliza's chest. Her blue skirts trailed behind her knees, her black flats thudding against the grass. Her hair had been done up in braids earlier that day, but as the heat increased with the day's time, the light strands had been wound into a bun on top of her head. As her body bounced with light steps, the locks began to fall and frame her face, Angelica's careful work falling into tendrils.

The three sisters were red-faced, droplets of sweat spotting their foreheads and on their thin necks when they arrived at the ticket booth. Angelica handed the man inside three brightly colored tickets. The mustached man grunted, ripping the tickets in half and returning them to Angelica's long, thin fingers. Eliza grinned at him, only provoking a raised eyebrow, before Peggy was dragging her inside the hot tent.

People were milling around the sawdust covered ground, handing money to venders for balloons that would pop and candies that would no doubt be gone before the excitement actually began. Eliza watched as Angelica stood a little straighter, held her chin a little higher, as bachelors passed their troupe of three. Peggy seemed to bound to an empty spot in the middle of the crowded, wood bleachers, flopping down with an excited giggle. Eliza grinned hugely.

Finally, after saving up all year, the sisters had raised the money to take themselves to the circus troop that was touring around. The group came to New York frequently, but Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy had only heard of the greatness that thrived in the tent. Of course, the girls came from a wealthy family, and it wouldn't have been a burden for them to leach money off their parents. However, Philip Schuyler believed it was important to teach his children management skills, as he wouldn't be around forever. The rest of the Schuyler children had decided to save up for smaller trifles, but the three girls were looking for an experience.

At last, the lanterns dimmed, inciting people to find their seats. An excited hush fell over the crowd as the ring master stepped into the center of the three rings. His red coat glittered. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it is my pleasure to present, the most revolutionary show you will ever see!" He swept his hands in a circle, and the tent erupted with light.

Into one ring, white horses galloped in a circle, slim riders doing handstands on their backs. A grey elephant trumpeted in the middle of the circling equines, his trunk rising into the air. In the second ring, strong men held lithe women as they built human pyramids and flipped over each other. Scarily skinny girls bent their bodies inside out, flipping backwards and still being able to peer at the audience once they made a full _O_ with their backs. A tattooed man blew fire from his mouth. Above the girls, trapeze artists jumped off of wooden platforms and flipped off one bar to catch another. In the last circle, a pair of tigers circled the ringmaster, their sleek bodies slinking and stalking nothing. Beside the ringmaster stood another woman that caught Eliza's eye.

Her bright red lips pouted around blindingly white teeth. Her golden eyes leered into the crowd as she slipped a hand behind her curled brown hair to bare her shoulders. Her skin was a beautiful brown that reminded Eliza of coffee with creamer. She wore a skimpy red dress to show off her dazzling legs and push up her bust. Eliza glanced around the crowd and saw many men beside their wives, gazing unabashedly at the beautiful woman. Eliza's face flamed. What was she thinking?

The ruckus calmed some, most of the animals and performers going back into hiding outside of the tent, including the golden-eyed girl. Eliza almost immediately missed her. The ringmaster brought a throng of tigers, lions, and cheetahs to the rings. They jumped over each other and through fire, their muscular bodies launching them effortlessly. She watched the thick brown manes of some of the lions and couldn't help but thing they looked an awful lot like the girl's own curl brown locks. Meanwhile, Peggy's mouth was slightly opened as she gazed on, her mind seemingly only captured by the cats.

Next, a throng of beastly looking men with deadly knives appeared, throwing their weapons onto targets with perfect aim. Some swallowed swords, and revealed them immediately after, children gasping when they didn't fall dead. After the men, trapeze artists flew like monkeys over each other and recaptured wooden bars not falling to the net below. Eliza thought the golden-eyed girl would look beautiful if she tumbled through the silks tied to the top of the tent, the fabric catching them only inches from the ground.

She swallowed thickly as tears burned her eyes at her forbidden thoughts. Not only was the girl a stranger, but she was well, a girl. And thanks to Eliza's aristocratic upbringing and the current era, the reporters would have a field day. Imagine: Phillip Schuyler's middle daughter, Elizabeth Schuyler, caught rendezvousing with a brown skinned woman. And there was that too. The darkness of the golden-eyed girl's skin would look like night to day with Eliza's milky skin, nurtured from long days inside.

Finally, the girl reappeared beside a large wooden box. "And ladies and gentlemen, I now present to you, Miss Maria Reynolds, our magician."

_Maria. _

The girl – Maria – settled a hand on the box. "I need to find a volunteer." And if Eliza didn't fall apart at the velvety voice that floated to her ears, she never would for anything. Her cheeks flooded with color and she looked down, clasping sweaty hands together. When she glanced back up, Maria's golden eyes were locked on her own blue ones. She smiled in her direction, but the golden eyes seemed more mysterious than kind.

"YOU!" She called, a sharp finger seeming to stab Eliza's chest through the air. She brought a hand to her chest, eyes wide. Peggy cheered and shoved Eliza off the seat into the ring.

"Yes, Eliza! Whoo!" the youngest of the three sisters shouted, standing and pumping her fists. Angelica caught her wrist, pulling the yellow-clad girl into her chair once more, whispering sharply to tell her to calm down.

The distance between Eliza and Maria seemed to multiply as she walked slowly across the sawdust on the rings, the shavings resting uncomfortably on her sweaty feet and in the crevices of her shoes. It was all Eliza could do to ignore the aroused feeling in her belly as she approached Maria. Finally, she was before the box, eyes downcast. If Eliza looked into the gild eyes before her, she might swoon.

"What's your name?" Maria asked.

"Elizabeth," she whispered.

"ELIZABETH!" Maria cheered. Good God Eliza loved the way the _z _of her name rolled off Maria's tongue. Loved the way her pink tongue poked between her teeth when she pronounced the _th. _"Get in the box, sweety," Maria said. "And lay real still." Eliza nodded, laying in the box, her head and feet sticking out of the box as the lid came down over her and trapping her. "I will now cut the beautiful Miss Elizabeth in half!"

The audience gasped as Maria revealed a sharp saw, the metal glinting dangerously. When she turned to Eliza, Maria looked delighted. She leaned down to whisper in Eliza's ear, warm fingers brushing Eliza's hair away.

"Don't worry, Darling. You'll be fine." Eliza shivered at the hot breath that brushed against her face, a minty smell coating Eliza's senses. Strangely enough, Eliza trusted Maria with her life.

Being cut in half was a strange sensation. She couldn't really explain the feeling because she was too engaged in Maria's flittering movements to really know what was happening. Maybe it was drafty? But no pain ever pierced her skin. Then, before she could actually register that she wasn't in one whole piece, she was put back together. Not even her dress needed hemming. Maria presented Eliza grandly when she stepped out of the box, hands trembling.

"Thank you, Miss Elizabeth," Maria smiled charmingly to the people in the crowd. Before Eliza could make her way back to her sisters, Maria caught her wrist. "Meet me behind the tent right after." And then she let go.

The walk away from Maria was quicker and more desperate. Eliza's mind was swimming. _Meet her? She couldn't have said that. Maybe she really meant to kill me, and now she's going to finish the job. _But something told Eliza that the magician hadn't meant to hurt her and didn't intend to.

The rest of the show carried on too quickly for Peggy and Angelica, but Eliza was longing for the tight rope walkers to just run across the thin wire so she could meet Maria. But at last, the show was over. The performers bowed deeply, and the audience rose to its feet, their applause seeming to never cease. Eliza was jittery and desperate to flee the tent, to breathe deeply and pull herself together to see Maria.

As the sisters slowly made their way out of the tent, Peggy rambling on and on about the show, hands flying as she animated the show they had all seen. Angelica laughed when appropriate, but her eyes were glued to Eliza, who only nodded and hummed with Peggy's retelling.

"I need to pee," Eliza announced, cutting off Peggy. "I'll meet you by the entrance." Peggy paused; an eyebrow raised.

"U-huh. You go 'pee,' Eliza," she smirked. Eliza looked back at her, confusion coloring her face.

"What was that?"

"We saw how you were looking at that magician girl," Angelica snorted. Eliza blushed bright red and she ducked her head beneath her light-colored locks, unsuccessfully hiding her attraction.

"Just go, Liza!" Peggy grinned, shoving her sister away. Eliza looked back at Angelica, seemingly seeking her approval. But all she found was an open smile, no malice or disgust hidden beneath. Eliza breathed out with a small grin before skirting over to the back of the tent, her sisters' laughs following behind her. She knew that if her father ever caught wind of her interests, it would not end well for her, but honestly, having her sisters' approval was more important to her than anything.

Sure enough, behind the tent, Maria stood, leaning against one of the metal poles that held up the canvased cavern. She no longer wore her scandalous dress, but a pair of men's pants and a cloak. However, her beauty was undoubtedly unparalleled despite her lack of skin showing. Maria's golden eyes studied Eliza's approaching form. The sister brushed her hair behind her ears, eyes finding her own shoes again.

"Hello, Miss Elizabeth," Maria greeted. She pushed herself off the tent pole, uncrossing her arms and greeting Eliza by placing her fingers beneath her chin, forcing Eliza to look up into her swirling gold pools.

"H-Hello, Miss Maria," Eliza whispered, nerves clawing their way up her throat. She was becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the time Maria released Eliza's chin.

"I know it's rather unorthodox, but I couldn't help but notice how beautiful you were. I just needed to contact you somehow and cutting you in half seemed the only solution." Eliza snorted out a laugh, before her hands flew to her mouth, covering the horrid sound. Maria laughed, and contrary to Eliza's outburst, her laugh was angelic. "You are absolutely adorable."

Eliza knew she needed to say something, so she did. "You're beautiful." Maria smiled.

"Thank you. Who were those girls you were with? If your heart is captured by another, I should not continue this advance." Eliza relaxed slightly at the nervous shifting the magician before her. Despite her put together appearance, Maria was just as uncertain as she was.

"They were my sisters. My heart has yet to be claimed, though I hope after this meeting I can say otherwise," Eliza grinned.

"Really?" The hope in Maria's eyes made Eliza melt a little more. She nodded carefully once, before continuing to nod fiercely. "Well, then, Miss Elizabeth, would you do me the pleasure of meeting me at the small park tomorrow afternoon so we may get to know each other better?"

"I'd be honored, Miss Maria," Eliza giggled.

"Oh, Lizzy!" Peggy called, her voice light and teasing. "Stop flirting! We need to leave! Father is waiting!"

"Leave her alone," Eliza heard Angelica snap.

Eliza rolled her eyes, turning to meet Maria's gaze. "My sisters. While I wish I could stay and engage in a more thorough conversation, my father calls. I will wait to learn and love you until tomorrow then." Eliza took one step away, eyes never leaving Maria's blushing cheeks. Before she could turn her back, Eliza grinned once and kissed Maria's cheek, before running to re-greet her sisters. Behind her, Maria's face split into a smile. She turned to walk into the tent but was stopped by a tall, curly haired man, skin only slightly darker than her own.

"She is pretty, non?" Lafayette grinned down at her. Maria blushed and shoved him out of her way, ignoring his loud laughs. But who could really deny it? Elizabeth was, after all, a sight to see.

WC: 2295


	5. Chapter 5

Musical Appearance

Sports AU

Angst

Washidad/lams

When John's mother left, his whole world felt like it was crumbling around him. The slurred shouts that reverberated off the walls of the Laurens' household left every child in the household trembling. Martha tucked baby Mary closer into her arms, John's own arms coming to encircle the pair as they huddled in his bedroom closet, trying to block out the noise. John had placed a pair of noise canceling headphones on Mary, connecting Martha's phone to the Bluetooth, and entertaining the baby, trying to keep her form crying. Lord knows it would only make the situation worse.

The front door slammed shut and Henry Laurens' car started, before it rumbled away down the long driveway of their mansion of a home. John counted to 360 before unwrapping his arms and helping his sister to her feet. They climbed out of the cramped closet, limbs protesting every movement after having been stuck in the same position for so long.

"Get to bed, Martha. You have a big biology test tomorrow, don't you?" John asked, taking Mary from the younger girl's arms.

"Yeah but," Martha yawned hugely. "You have the SAT for college. And you know Father won't let you take it more that once." She made grabby hands toward the baby again, trying to convince John to let her put down Mary.

"It's okay. I'll worry about myself, as soon as you get to bed yourself," John promised. "I'll come in and make sure, Marty. And I'll drive you to school tomorrow."

"No, John," she went to protest, but the boy shushed her gently.

"Good night," he hugged her with his free arm before kissing her forehead and leading her to her room. Once, he was certain the younger girl had climbed into bed, John took Mary to his own room. Taking off the headphones and stripping his own clothes, before tucking them both into his bed, alarm set for extra early so he could surprise his sisters with a homemade breakfast. Hopefully, his mother would be home in the morning, her leaving just another moment of rage towards his father.

However, when John awoke, there were no cars in the driveway. Granted, the sun had yet to rise, he still felt a bit of fear surge in his gut. What if his never came back. Sure, she deserved not to be on the receiving end of his father's aggressive actions, but she couldn't have just left him hear. Could she?

John made sure Mary was still asleep before walking to the kitchen, turning on the stove and whisking the pancake batter. Normally, the maids would cook breakfast, but after last night, John felt he needed to make it up to his sisters. He wasn't really sure why that was, he had nothing to be ashamed of other than their shared father. But he couldn't help but feel that this was his fault. It was his own fault that Martha had huddled around a baby last night while they trembled in his closet. He hadn't come out or anything, so he had absolutely no reason to feel this way, but he let the guilt simmer, turning into a deep sadness that ran through his veins.

After scrounging around for some vegetables and ham, John cracked the remaining eggs into the pan, stirring them to create a fluffy scramble, before he added the ham and green peppers. The smell filtered through the air thickly, making John's mouth water. He filled two cups with orange juice when he heard Martha moving around upstairs, serving the eggs and pancakes on two plates.

He headed back upstairs to get Mary dressed, meeting Martha in the hall before they made their way downstairs again. John put a bottle of formula into the microwave, heating it so it was warm as Martha sat at the counter, already stuffing her face with eggs and pancakes, downing the orange juice in a single gulp.

"Slow down there, Tiger," John chuckled, his own food untouched as he tested the formula's heat, deeming it acceptable, and giving it to Mary to suckle on. "You're gonna get sick."

Martha grinned toothily; a bit of green pepper skin stuck to her canine tooth. "Thanks for breakfast, Jack." Clearly, she was doing her best to ignore the fact that neither of their "parents" were home. John respected that. It was always easier to avoid their predicament than try and face it head on.

John wolfed down his own food, grabbing some worn down Number 2 pencils and a calculator, before grabbing his own car keys and putting Mary in her car seat, Martha climbing into the passenger seat.

They sat in silence, Mary gurgling in the background until they arrived at daycare. Martha kept watch of the car as John grabbed the youngest Laurens and brought her inside. However, as they were walking, the bounce in John's step caused the baby to spittle on his shirt. He cursed quietly, feeling the warm liquid seep through to his skin. He had forgotten to burp her. Either way, it was too late now.

John entered the daycare, smiling at the teachers present. "Hi Mrs. Adams," he greeted, handing Mary to her.

"Hello, John. Normally your mother drops off little Mary here. Is she alright?" John's face paled slightly.

"Oh, um. She was just, uh, running late this morning. She asked me to bring in Mary," John lied. Mrs. Adams nodded in understanding.

"Well, I'm sure you don't know yet, but kids are quite a hassle," she grinned, bouncing Mary on her hip. The baby smiled, fingers reaching out to grab Mrs. Adams' nose. The woman blew a raspberry, causing Mary to shriek.

"Well, thank you Mrs. Adams. I'm sure my mom will be around to pick her up later," John said. "Bye Mary!" The baby was too enthralled with Mrs. Adams' silly faces to pay John much attention. The boy ignored the painful tug in his chest and left the daycare, not seeing Mrs. Adams' pained face watching as he left.

When he exited, the car was pulled away slightly off to the side, Martha in the driver's seat, picking at her nails. John knocked on the window, raising an eyebrow at her current placing. She jumped out of her haze and crawled over the center console back to her seat, leaving John room to get back in his rightful place.

"You're not supposed to be driving," he told her, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Sorry. People were beginning to honk, and they yelled at me. So I moved the car," she quietly said. John hadn't felt angry to begin with, so what was left was aggravation at people for not understanding his situation. Obviously, they couldn't. They had no idea what they were dealing with right now.

"It's okay, Marty. Now let's get you to that biology test, yeah?" They smiled weakly at each other. Despite her younger age, Martha understood what was going on. She knew the odds of their mother coming back this time were slim. But neither of them let go of their firm grasp on a thin string of hope. Neither of them were willing to relinquish their childish desires for their family to be ordinary.

"Are you going to hockey practice today?" Martha asked. John's eyes flicked to her once.

"I don't play hockey anymore, Martha. But yes, I am going to work," John told her firmly. Once upon a time, hockey had been John's life. His only support through his ever-shaky home life. He'd go to practice, get thrown against plastic barriers and nearly pummeled into the ground. But it was a better alternative to taking out his aggression than getting into actual fights. So, he would spend hours on the hockey rink, whether there was practice or not, and shoot pucks into the net or throw himself into the wall just to feel something. All under the watchful eye of Coach Washington.

However, when he had been driving to a hockey game, three of his other teammates in the car, they had wrecked, a drunk driver ramming into the side of the car. In the end, it had been ruled that John had run a red light though everyone else would argue otherwise. Unfortunately, the true offender's lawyer had bribed the judge, and to everyone's horror, John had taken the blunt of the blow. The repercussions in terms of money and jail time had been slim to none, but at the expense of his teammates who were in the car with him. Lafayette and Hercules had experienced the least of the trauma. Lafayette with a concussion and fractures arm, Hercules with a need for hundreds of stitches for various cuts, and a broken collar bone. John himself had been mostly unscathed aside from a few bruises and broken ankle. However, Alexander, John's boyfriend, had taken the blunt of the blow, the car hitting his side directly. He had been airlifted to the hospital and placed in a medically induced coma. When the immigrant had woken, it had been to discover a lack of feeling and movement available in his legs. Despite years of physical therapy, Alexander had been confined to a wheelchair.

Alex and John were still dating despite the accident. Alexander tried to tell John countless times that the accident was everyone's fault but his own, but John refused to accept that. Even Alex's foster parents, Mr. and Mrs. Washington, had refused to let John wallow in his guilt. However, Mr. Washington had respected John's wishes to stop playing hockey. If Alex couldn't play, John wouldn't either. Still, it wasn't long before John was itching for the cool air of the hockey rink, and Coach Washington had offered John a place of employment at the hockey rink.

John pulled up in front of his and Martha's high school, people already flooding into the doors. He took Martha's hand in his own, kissing her knuckles. "I love you," he whispered. She hugged him tightly.

"I love you, too," and she climbed out of the car, grabbing her bag and joining some of her friends as they too joined the throng of students. John took a moment to steady his breathing in the car before grabbing his own stuff and walking into the SAT testing room. Martha hadn't been exaggerating when she said their father wouldn't allow him to take the test again if he didn't receive the score he wanted. In return, John studied relentlessly for the test, praying to every god out there that he would get a good enough score to get into somewhere that wasn't community college. He would never get into Columbia like Alexander, but he was aiming for NYU with Hercules and Lafayette.

The test proctor was mean. He yelled across the room, kicked kids out for breathing too loudly, and refused to give a five-minute warning for the end of sections. It was like he wanted the students to fail. The test was long and grueling, leaving John's head spinning with numbers and words. However, he felt good. The answer key hadn't had more that three of the same answer in a row, and he had been able to work out most of the math without guessing.

Martha would be going home with one of her best friends, so John slipped out of the school as soon as his test was over and headed to Washington Hockey Rink. The drive was short, but it was still enough time for John to get anxious. The team would be there. While he knew the boys weren't angry about the car crash or his leaving the team, John couldn't help the butterflies in his stomach that appeared when he thought of joining them.

John took a steadying breath before crawling out of the car. The main lobby was silent, most people still getting out of school. John could appreciate it. After stopping by Washington's office to let the coach know he was here, he grabbed a broom and began sweeping the bleachers. There had been a hockey game last night.

Slowly the guys on the team began to arrive and John tried to stay as quiet as possible. However, he could never escape the sight of his two closest friends.

"John, mon ami!" Lafayette called, skating over to the side of the rink John was cleaning.

"Hey, Lafayette, Hercules," John greeted, putting down the broom and walking to the edge of the rink. He winced when Hercules took his helmet off and he was greeted with the sight of a nasty pink scar running down Hercules' cheek. If the taller boy noticed, he said nothing.

"We really could have used you out there last night. We won, but only by the skin of our teeth," Hercules commented.

"Oui, we miss you on the ice," Lafayette said. He leaned his tall, lanky body on the edge of the rink, letting his skates slip out behind him. Despite the Frenchman's skin and bones stature, he was incredibly fast on ice, and provided a valuable asset to the team.

"Yeah, well," John rubbed his neck. He didn't know how to respond. His friends knew there was no way he was getting on the ice before Alexander did. Luckily, Coach Washington blew his whistle, and the boys left John to circle in the middle of the rink and discuss their plan of action for the practice.

After he finished sweeping, John slipped into the offices to help Mrs. Washington with paperwork. She was a stout woman, shoulders slightly hunched from leaning over a desk most of the day. But when she was on the ice, she was graceful and elegant, years of figure skating training her to stand with perfect posture.

"Hello, John, Sweetie. How are you?" She asked, pausing her scribbling.

"I'm good," he said, forcing a smile.

"You're doing well," came a voice from behind him. "And no, you're not."

John turned to face Alexander, his boyfriend now two feet shorter than he had been before the accident. The other boy smile and wheeled himself beside his foster mom's desk, a relaxed grin on his face. Despite the horrors of Alex's situation, he always seemed perfectly okay with it. Holding nothing against John, and happy he could at least move his upper body to continue his other passion, writing.

"I'm fine, Alex," John said, his smile a little more genuine. Alexander rolled his eyes, but let it slide, knowing he wouldn't get anywhere with John at this point. John could always appreciate Alex's ability to know when John needed comforting, and when he just wanted to be left alone.

"Well, we've got work to do, boys!" Mrs. Washington announced, slamming a huge stack of papers on the table. "John, can you file, and Alexander can you help me write these emails?"

The trio worked for hours, the monotony of filing numbing John's mind. The incessant clicking of the old keyboard only added to the painfully tedious work. Despite this, John knew that if he was ever going to get his siblings out of their dad's house, he needed the money that came with the job.

Suddenly, John's phone rang, cutting through the silence. When he looked at the caller ID, John recognized the number of Mary's daycare.

"Hello?" He answered, Alexander stopping his typing to look at his boyfriend curiously.

"Hello, John? This is Mrs. Adams. I'm calling to let you know daycare is over. Your mom never came to pick her up, and I didn't know if you were supposed to and you forgot or…?"

John cursed softly under his breath. "Yeah, um. I'll head right over." John could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Why wasn't his mom coming home? John quickly hung up the phone and apologized to Alex and Mrs. Washington that he needed to grab Mary from school, leaving out the detail of his mother's lack of presence.

The daycare was deserted besides Mrs. Adams who was holding Mary on the outdoor step. John left the car idling and ran to grab his youngest sibling. He apologized profusely, trying to hand Mrs. Adams a ten-dollar bill for allowing Mary to stay after the daycare closed. She merely waved John away, explaining that things like this happened all the time. However, by the sad look in Mrs. Adams' eyes, picking up a baby two hours after it closed was _not _usual.

John quickly strapped Mary into the car and called Martha as he began the drive home, asking if she was ready to come home. The older sister must have heard the distress in his voice, and she immediately agreed to head home earlier, apologizing profusely to her host for leaving. Martha was waiting outside, fiddling with her phone when John pulled up.

As soon as she closed the door, John burst. "Mom never picked up Mary." Apparently, Martha didn't have anything to say to that. John glanced over to his sister and studied her tensed shoulders, watched her chew on her thumb nail, deep in thought. John sighed and parked his car in front of the house. They had a few hours before their father got home. Hopefully.

John put Mary into his own bed and watched Martha go down to her own bedroom, leaving the door open in case John needed her. He cracked open his textbook and began working on his calculus homework, numbers flying around his head as he reworked graphs on a scrap piece of paper. John didn't notice the hours had ticked by until the front door slammed again. He could hear Martha jump from the other room.

Both siblings immediately raced downstairs, John praying to everything holy that Mary would stay asleep as she had done for him all through his studying. When Martha and John finally reached the kitchen, their father already had a bottle in his hand, lounging on one of the barstools.

"Hey, Martha, hey Jackie," he slurred, eyes lazily meeting their faces. Martha smiled, going over to kiss Henry's cheek and begin brewing some tea, hoping to ease their father's inevitable rage. However, as soon as the kettle whistled, Mary screamed. Both John and Martha froze.

"Why is that child yelling?" Henry snarled. "Jack, you were supposed to put her down by now." The man swaggered over to his eldest child. Martha quickly turned off the kettle and ran upstairs, grabbing her phone on the way.

John breathed a sigh of relief when Martha got out. It was short lived, however, when the father snarled. "I just want to come home to piece and quiet. Is that too much to ask?"

"N-No, Father," John responded, backing into the stove and wincing when the remaining heat flooded up his back. Unfortunately for the freckled teen, Henry Laurens noticed.

"You don't like the heat, boy? Well, you shouldn't have been playing with fire." And for a while, John didn't register anything but searing hot pain, searing skin and coursing through veins. It wasn't until the kettle was cooled and empty that the older man lost interest in John's screams.

It could have been hours, minutes, seconds, days. John didn't know. But soon, he heard his father's snores echoing through the living room, and Martha's quiet footsteps. His sister gasped softly. John heard the dial tones coming through his sister's phone, then Alexander's almost timid voice. John wanted to protest. Don't get the love of his life involved. Please.

But soon enough, sirens were heard approaching their driveway and the door was kicked in. Mr. Washington knelt by John's side, cursing softly at what was probably third-degree burns.

"M-Martha. Mary. Are they okay?" John asked, voice hoarse from screaming.

"They're all okay, John. We love you so much, you're safe now," George whispered, placing John on the gurney to the ambulance. "It's okay. You are so loved."

WC: 3321


	6. Chapter 6

Foster AU

Historical Appearance

Angst and Fluff

Alex and Foster dad Lin

He knew this placement was too perfect. The universe was never kind, and the idea that maybe, just maybe, something would work out in his favor, was preposterous.

Alexander had been sitting at the kitchen table working on an essay when Vanessa had rushed in, calling out for Lin. Alex jumped from where he was sitting, seeing small tears form in his foster mother's eyes. Looking around desperately for a way to help, Alexander grabbed a cup of water. Maybe she had a really bad sore throat and was desperate for relief. Alex didn't know why she couldn't get some water herself, but if she expected it to come from him and Alex didn't provide, he was certain he would be thrown out.

"Nessa? What's wrong?" Lon called, racing from his "office" to find an anxious foster child and a tearful wife. "Hey, Alex, it's okay," Lin reassured first, knowing the boy needed some form of acknowledgement that he was in the right. "Vanessa, what is it?"

"I-I, wow, okay. I'm just really happy!" Alexander frowned. Why was she crying then? "Do you know how I went to the doctors because of my nausea? Well, oh, my gosh, Lin! I'm pregnant!"

While Lin and Vanessa screamed in excitement, each launching at the other and crying happy tears, Alexander's stomach dropped. Of course. Vanessa was pregnant. Lin was more excited than Alexander had ever seen him. Alexander was more terrified than he had ever been. Years of abuse and terror had nothing on the fear that froze Alex's insides at the idea of being replaced

Glancing to make sure nobody was watching, Alex grabbed his notebooks and backpack and raced down the hall to his bedroom. He could still hear Vanessa's elated giggles and Lin's breathless laugh. Alex figured it was safer to pack his things now before the newly expecting couple could hurt him in order to get him away from their new promises. To be honest, Alexander wasn't sure if the Miranda's would even kick him out. Something deep down held onto the hope that they would still love him, still cherish him as they had. But maybe they hadn't. Maybe they really just took in a troubled foster kid because they were waiting. And the best way to wait was to waste time.

Alex quickly grabbed his threadbare backpack from the corner of his closet, knowing that the Mirandas wouldn't want him to take any of the stuff they had payed for, including the nice new bag they had bought him upon the start of the school year. Unfortunately, he had trashed the clothes he had come to the Miranda's house in, so he pulled out the cheapest pair of sweatpants and sweater from the drawer and put them in the bag, along with his run-down copy of _Pride and Prejudice, _and the journals that had been stacked on his desk. While Vanessa had bought them for him a few days into his visit, they were already blooming with Alex's scrawled thoughts. Those were not something he wanted to just leave lying around.

Soon enough, Alex was packed up. He sat at the foot of the bed, fiddling with the cell phone he had been gifted, before dialing the number of Mr. Seabury, his social worker. While the man had promised this placement would be perfect, Alex didn't trust that. Mr. Seabury had made mistakes in the past. None of them on purpose, of course, but they had left Alex's trust in the goodness of human nature in shambles.

"Hello?" The deep voice came, making Alex's heart crack a little more. A small tear dribbled down Alex's cheek.

"M-Mr. Seabury? This is Alexander." He couldn't form much more of a sentence than that. His voice tremored harshly, and Alex sucked in a harsh breath. "C-Can you come get me? The, the, they're gonna replace me, and I don't want to bother them because they've been so good to me and I really don't want them to be uncomfortable with a screw up like me in the house around the baby. And can you please get me before they have to kick me out. I don't want to ruin them," Alex rambled, voice slicing through Mr. Seabury's calming hushes.

"Alex, Alexander, calm down. Slow down. Take a deep breath," he said quietly, listening to the foster child take a deep breath. "That's it." The social worker's heart clenched at the sound of the sniffles that were undoubtedly accompanied by tears streaming down normally rosy cheeks.

"Vanessa's pregnant. And they're gonna have a baby. And they won't want me around anymore," Alex wailed quietly. Seabury had dealt with multiple cases of abandonment in his field of work. Children feeling as though nobody wanted them around after being tossed back and forth for years. Alexander was always a particularly hard case. His anxiety often made him lash out like a caged animal, and so far, Seabury old only assume the fear of being abandoned was making him reckless in asking to be removed from a perfectly good placement.

"Okay, Alexander. I'm going to head over; I'll be there in a few hours. But I need you to not do anything rash, okay? You need to stay where you are, don't start anything, because I think everything will turn out just fine."

Alex sniffled. "Thank you. I don't think I should see Lin or Vanessa right now."

"That's okay. Just take some deep breaths. Work on some homework or read. You don't have to sleep if you're worried," Samuel promised. He knew that often, the kids he worked with were afraid to sleep if the situation they were in was rocky.  
Alright. I'll see you soon Alexander."

"Bye," Alex said, hanging up the phone and curling up at the top of his bed, hugging a pillow close to his chest as a few more tears leaked from his eyes. This was supposed to be perfect!

Only a few minutes after Alex's phone call with his social worker, there was a knock on his door. Alex jolted, scrubbing furiously at his face to try and distract from his wet cheeks. He untied his hair and let the red coils fall around his face. He raced to his desk and bent down over an empty notebook, pretending to be working on something. Trying to do anything he could to prove that he was totally fine with leaving. When the door to his room opened, Alex glanced quickly to see Lin and Vanessa waiting there, concern coloring their features.

"Alexander?" Vanessa said quietly, going to crouch beside the desk. She rested her hands on the wood top to keep her balance. "What's wrong? We were going to suggest going to dinner to celebrate, but you weren't there anymore." Oh, gosh. They were actually going to celebrate his leaving of their house? They couldn't wait to get him out!

"No, um, I'm okay. Just need to work."

"Alex, your notebook is empty," Lin pointed out, walking forward and placing a hand on Vanessa's shoulder. "What's up?"

Alex shook his head furiously. "N-Nothing. I just was working on something before I leave." The teen boy looked away, missing the confused look on his foster parents' faces.

"Where are you going, Alexander? Why are you leaving?" Vanessa asked. She brought up a careful hand to brush away Alex's curly hair, revealing his tear-stained cheeks.

"Y-Your having a baby. It's what you've always wanted, isn't it? And now that you're going to have a kid of your own, you won't want a screw up like me coming and messing him up," Alex mumbled, pulling his hair back in front of his eyes that now welled with more tears.

"Oh, _mijo,_" Lin whispered. "Never. We aren't giving you up now that we're going to have a baby. Actually, having someone else like you would be amazing to help us raise our kid. You're getting your driver's license soon, you're responsible, you stand up for what you believe in. Alex, you'll be the perfect older brother."

Alex looked up, baring his raw face to his foster parents, shock written all over his face. "Really?" Both Vanessa and Lin nodded, the wife pulling the boy into a hug, and the husband carting his fingers through red hair.

"We are never, _ever, _letting you go, Alexander Hamilton. We're going to be there for your high school and college graduations, and when you get married, and we're going to be your kids' grandparents. We aren't leaving you. We have too many plans for you in our lives," Lin said softly. Alex felt his heart swell, before it dropped right back down. He quickly wriggled out of the clutches of his foster parents. The two were ready to reassure the boy all over again when he grabbed his phone and quickly dialed the same number he had dialed only an hour before.

"Hi, Mr. Seabury?" Lin and Vanessa paled. Alex had called his social worker? "Yeah. I'm okay. You don't have to come get me anymore. They say they're going to keep me." Alex's face was alight with joy and relief at the news. A smile spread across his face, a new spark in his violet eyes.

"Well, that's good news, Alexander. I hope you trust them a little more now, yeah?" Alex felt heat rise in his cheeks at the accusation. He muttered a quiet "yes." "Good. Well, I'm glad we're on the same page. But still, you know you can always talk to me about any troubles."

"Yeah, thank you." Alex hung up and turned to his foster parents looking ashamed. "I'm sorry. I thought you were gonna get rid of me, so I called Mr. Seabury to take that off your shoulders."

Both Lin and Vanessa shook their heads and gave their foster boy one more hug, before leading him back into the kitchen so commence a family game night.

Sure enough, nine months later, Alex was trying to calm down Lin as Vanessa's screams rang out through the halls of the hospital. And only hours after that, Alexander was holding his new little brother, Sebastian, like he was holding the world in his hands.

WC: 1703


	7. Chapter 7

Historical Appearance

Snow Globe AU

Angst and Horror

Alex, Thomas

"But, Mother. You know the Jefferson's hate us. They look down their crooked noses at us like we are common gutter rats. It doesn't help that we basically are," Alexander complained, trying and failing to knot his ragged tie around his collared shirt.

The duo was dressed in their Sunday best, scuffed shoes, patched tops and bottoms, Alex's red hair tied into a green ribbon that had been his father's, and his mother's hair pinned back in her finest piece of jewelry outside of her wedding ring – a faux silver and pearl comb. They tried to move around the single cramped bedroom to prepare for the party they had been invited to. It had been strange, of course. When Mrs. Jefferson had invited her poor neighbors to her family's mansion for a dinner party. Never before had Alexander nor Rachel been anywhere near the Jefferson mansion without being chased off it. And yet, Rachel had found it rude to deny the invitation. Her son, Alexander, had begged to differ.

But alas, the duo found themselves on the bright red bricks before the pristine white door, Alex behind his mother. Rachel grasped the bronze knocker, a ring between the sharp teeth of a lion, and tapped it against the door. It seemed to be ineffective, but before Alex could suggest they just leave, nobody was home, Jefferson's mother came to the door.

She was monstrous. Tall and skinny with wrinkles marring her face and hands. Her shadow seemed to fill the doorway without the help of her husband who stood behind her. Her face broke into a smile that failed to reach her cool eyes.

"Rachel, Alexander. Do come in," she greeted, turning to leave the doorway open.

"Good afternoon, Jane. Thank you for having us," Rachel said, tilting her chin up to meet her hostess's eyes. Alexander's mother was significantly shorter than any of the Jefferson family, resulting in Alex being shorter than them as well. Sure, he was average height for his age, but the Jefferson's exceeded expectation even in the context of height.

"I think Mrs. Jefferson will do, hm?"

Alexander's eyes flashed, but his mother just smiled kindly and nodded. Alex had failed to adopt his mother's unrelenting kindness in his traits. He had more of his "no good" father in him. Fire, passion. Of course, kindness, but only when warranted.

The party was already flourishing as the duo walked into the main room. Alexander quickly spotted Thomas speaking with some of his friends, all high-class boys with views most likely the opposite of Alex's own. He stayed close to his mother despite the way she tried to get him to venture. Nonetheless, the two stayed quietly in the corner.

As the night drew on, the party seemed to pick up. More people arrived with more alcohol, and more obscene conversation filled the air, sending Alex and Rachel to hide away in a spare bedroom, trying to escape the too loud music.

Inside the bedroom was a simple twin bed with a white comforter and silk sheets. Sheen curtains hung from ceiling to floor, but were pulled back to reveal the dark night, making the tiny room seem slightly bigger. It was a shockingly small room for such a mansion as the Jefferson household. However, even stranger than the size of the room was the thousands of snow globes that sat on a bookshelf and above the fireplace. Every globe focused on one miniscule figurine, carefully situated in different scenes. In one, a blonde-haired boy was reading next to an undecorated Christmas tree. In another, a large brunette girl had a lollipop inside her mouth and had a red balloon in her hand. Alexander had never seen snow globes that didn't focus around a destination. He had also never seen the miniature people in a snow globe done so beautifully.

Alex and Rachel were so entranced with the globes that they didn't hear the bedroom door open. It wasn't until Mrs. Jefferson's screech resonated through the small space that the duo looked up.

"What are you doing in here? I invite you into my home, and you trespass into my private rooms! Leave! Immediately," she shrieked. Rachel quickly apologized, before grabbing Alex's hand and leading him from the room and out the front door. Rachel was in such a rush to leave that she didn't see Mrs. Jefferson gently grip Alexander's back side, before ushering him out. The teenager couldn't do anything but shoot her an affronted look, color tinting his cheeks and ears.

Rachel forgot about the party a few months later, preferring to go on with her mundane life than think back to the uncomfortable encounters. Alexander, however, could not get the snow globes out of his head. And more than the snow globes, his run-in with Mrs. Jefferson still left him feeling slightly dirty. Then, they got sick.

Alexander got ill first. He lay in bed for days, sweat beading his entire body, coughs wracking his entire body. The heat was so intense that hallucinations began to infiltrate his mind. He saw his father reaching out to his mother, an evil scowl on his face. Alex saw his brother, reaching out to bring him into a hug. Alex's brother was long dead. The side of the bed was damp with sick as Alex was too weak to reach his head far enough over the bed before he threw up; stomach bile and the few crackers he had managed to stomach that morning. The illness was easily cured with the correct antibiotics, but the doctor was too expensive, and refused to come all the way out to the Hamilton's run-down, dingy "home."

Soon enough, Alexander's germs infiltrated his mother, and both mother and son were confined to the sick filled bed, both too weak to stand or do much more than sleep. Rachel's arms encircled Alexander's shivering form as she kissed a trembling kiss to his brow. Alexander's eyes were clenched shut and his teeth gritted against the pain in his gut. Rachel hushed him softly as he whimpered.

"My Alexander. You are so brave," she whispered. "You are going to do great things one day. Just hang on a little longer." A few tears leaked down her cheeks as she kissed another kiss to her child's head. "I love you, Alejandro." She died later that evening.

A few days after his mother's passing, Alexander recovered. His fever broke and he awoke to cold, waxy arms encircling him. When he rubbed the grime away from his eyes for the first time in weeks, he was greeted with the still form of his mother. He screamed.

The authorities found Alexander alone in his house later that day; a neighbor had called saying she hadn't seen the duo leave the house in nearly a month and had heard the scream. They took Alex into custody, made sure he was healthy, and threw him into the system. Rachel was buried before Alex had gotten to say goodbye. He wasn't even sure where her body was.

After spending two weeks at a local orphanage, someone stepped forward to adopt Alexander. The orphanage was already overcrowded and didn't have enough funding to feed all the children sufficiently, so getting the teenager off their hands was such a blessing that they didn't even do a background check on the family. And it wasn't until the case worker drove onto Alexander's old street that he realized the hoe he would be getting dropped off at was his old neighbor's. The Jeffersons.

Alexander almost r effused to get out of the car, but after seeing the exhausted look on the caseworker's face, he clambered out. He was causing enough trouble already and didn't want to add to the burden. The three Jeffersons were waiting by the door for him. They waved off the caseworker who sent them a weary smile and backed out of the driveway. Alex was pretty sure there was more she was supposed to do to make sure Alex was safe, but again, he wouldn't want to bother her.

"Alexander! A pleasure to see you again," Mrs. Jefferson greeted, her spindly fingers reaching out to clasp Alex's face. He flinched away from her. Mrs. Jefferson frowned, but let Alex greet her husband and son. Mr. Jefferson merely grunted at the boy, but Thomas shook her hand firmly.

"Guess we gotta start to get along, huh?" Surprisingly, his smile seemed genuine, and Alex grinned back.

"Well," Mrs. Jefferson said, clapping her hands in a sharp manor. "We best get you settled in, Alexander." Said boy nodded slightly, following the family into the house. "We have a room all set up for you. We think you'll enjoy it." Something in her voice told Alex he definitely would not be enjoying it.

He was right. The room was smaller than the snow globe room. Dirt covered the floorboards and there was only room for a small bed and Alex's backpack to fit. The bed was basically the entire room. Alex looked back at the family, trying to hide his indignation. Mrs. Jefferson crooned, Mr. Jefferson looked bored, and Thomas had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Thank you," Alexander whispered. He had nothing to be thankful for at this point. The floor of the orphanage was better than this. Dealing with snotty, tired children was easier than this. Mrs. Jefferson squeaked her delight at Alex's response before pushing him inside and pushing everyone else, out.

"We'll call you for dinner. That is, if you can get out." Then, she closed the door and Alex heard the lock click behind her. At this point, Alex had no real care. He flopped on the bed dramatically and groaned. Just his luck. He was living with his former worst enemy and his probably sex-offending parents. He was just thrilled.

However, the thing getting Alex through it all was the fact that he would be eighteen in a few months. Then, he would be free. College probably wasn't an option, but at least he could start saving up enough for application fees. When he had been at school, his guidance counselor had said he had the potential for a full ride, knowing full well that Alex's family didn't have the means to pay for college themselves.

Alex must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knew someone was knocking softly on his door, and the moon was high in the sky. The Caribbean boy went to open the door, turning the handle only to feel it lock beneath his hands. Right.

"Hey, yeah. Sorry, I don't have the key, but I managed to get some food for the table for you," Thomas' voice came from the other side of the door. Alex was shocked. He had noticed a change in Thomas, but not that big of a change.

"I – thank you," Alex said, reaching his fingers under the door and feeling a piece of fluffy bread being placed there, as well as a few slabs of cheese. Alex had never been a cheese kind of guy, but it wasn't until he took his first bite of bread that he realized how hungry he was. Then, the pickiness toward the food was gone.

"I don't know how much of that I can do, but I'll try to help when I can." Then, Alex saw the light under the door shift, and heard Thomas walk away.

The next weeks continued much of the same way. Alexander knew he was probably putting Thomas in danger by relying on his services to get him food, but it was so much easier to do that than pick the lock on the doorknob, and nothing in Alex's life had ever been easy.

It wasn't until his second month of living at the Jefferson's house that he was allowed out of his room other than for a brief bathroom stop. The three Jeffersons had left the house, and the night before, Thomas had slipped the key to the lock beneath Alex's door with a note. Thomas had his phone with him on their little excursion and would ring the landline as soon as the Jeffersons were headed back so Alex would have enough time to return the key to the snow globe room and re-hide himself.

As soon as the Jefferson's car left the driveway, Alex was out of his room. He ran out of the room and through all the hallways, laughter bubbling in his chest. He hadn't laughed in a long time. His feet carried him up and down the hallways, his bare feet pounding on the carpet. The pictures rattled, but he didn't care. He was free! If only for a little while. After running around the halls, Alex raided the kitchen. He stole sleeves of crackers and fruit snacks, granola bars and bags of chips. But he was careful. He knew that if Mrs. Jefferson found out he had stolen her food it would not end well for him.

Finally, he thought back to his first visit of the Jefferson household. The snow globe room. It had only been about a year ago, so Alex assumed it wouldn't be gone. The orphan slipped through the hallways and around corners before arriving at the white room. The door was once again unlocked, and Alex slipped in, shutting the door behind him.

If possible, even more snow globes filled the room then what had been there a year ago. A newer looking globe held a petite teen with a red-tipped nose, more from illness than an outdoor chill. Alex ran his fingertips over the glass before stumbling back across the one of the blonde boy, his hair in a ponytail as he read. Faintly in the background, Alex heard the phone ringing urgently. However, it was drowned out by his intrigue of the snow globe. He picked up the glass ball, turning it in his hands and watching silver sparkles fall around the boy. The phone rang louder this time and snapped Alex out of his trance.

He quickly placed the snow globe back on the shelf, running out of the room. Unfortunately, the door slammed a little too hard, and Alex heard a crash. He froze. Thomas had said he would call as soon as they left. That should offer just enough time to fix whatever had just gone down.

However, Alexander was not prepared for the sight before him. Standing among the small shards of the snow globe, was the blonde-haired boy who had been reading within the confines only moments before. Alex stood with his mouth agape.

The boy was handsome, his hair silkier than it had appeared in the snow globe. His eyes were a gorgeous blue, and he stood confidently like a soldier. Then, the boy turned to face Alex and the boy fell a little harder.

"Thank you, for freeing me," the snow globe boy said, a gentle southern accent lacing his words. "My name is John Laurens." Alex was still frozen to his place like a streetlight. John looked at him a little longer, hand awkwardly held out to Alex. "And you are?"

"A-Alexander. Hamilton," he added as an afterthought. Alex quickly took John's hand. "Y-You just came out of the snow globe." John looked confused.

"Yes. Oh! You do not know, which means you still have time…" John trailed off, pacing the ground as if he hadn't just been sitting by a tree for a year. John's eyes suddenly snapped to Alex's. "You have to get out of here. You cannot trust Mrs. Jefferson. If she finds out you freed me – "

"Who knows what she'll do?" A familiar voice drawled behind them. So caught up in the moment were John and Alex that they hadn't heard the front door or the room door open. Mrs. Jefferson stood menacingly in the doorframe, her tall form towering over John and Alex. Thomas cowered behind his mother, fear marring his normally confident features.

"You should have told me you knew how to get out, Alexander," she cooed, reaching forward and caressing the red head's face. "If I had known, I could have added you to my collection earlier." Alex was frozen. "Thomas, be a dear and go fetch my tools. I need to add a new globe to my collection." It was the last thing Alex heard before there was a sharp pain in the back of his head, and everything went dark.

WC: 2750


End file.
